


Smoke and Dust

by WildConcerto



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (i know), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Victorian-ish Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9266000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildConcerto/pseuds/WildConcerto
Summary: "We live in a world of steam, Captain Andor, but the Empire is about to introduce the era of the kyber crystal."Cassian has learned throughout the years to never show shock, nor anger, nor sadness. He cannot help a lump forming itself in his throat, until he forces himself to gulp in discomfort.





	

**Author's Note:**

> And welcome to yet another WIP-I-really-shouldn't-be-doing. Solikerez, you're getting full blame for this. Please also note that I've only seen Rogue One once - so I apologize for any incoherence or OOCness.

Davits Draven stares at him as if he already underestimates him for this mission.

Cassian contents himself by crossing his arms, adopting a more nonchalant pose. Someone else would have been offended by this lack of trust, but he knows better than to become frustrated for so trivial a thing.  He knows he is fit for anything the Rebel Alliance can give him, and most importantly, he isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

A person with more scruples would have called him an assassin. He prefers seeing himself as a freedom fighter in his own way.

From his perspective, “assassin” is a matter of point of view. If he is one, so be it. It still isn’t proof that he is in the wrong.

It’s not like he’s a mass murderer like those from the Empire. His work consists mostly of spying missions. Nothing unmoral about it: from Princess Leia of Alderaan to some Fifth District beggar, anyone can join as a spy for the Rebel Alliance, providing them with information and a step forward. A small step, most of the time, but a step regardless.

Draven is usually hard to read, and even harder to please, but Cassian Andor has learned very early how to observe one’s facial expressions. Today, it isn’t so hard. It won’t be some barrel of laughs consisting in stealing documents from a police station.

“Members of our Intel have gathered enough information about the Stardust project,” starts Draven, without further ado. Cassian knows he only has a split second to remember – Stardust project. One of the Empire’s best-guarded secrets. But not secret enough for the Rebellion to discover leaks about it, piling up as they come to realize the project might be a lot more massive than they expected at first.

“We finally discovered what Stardust might be all about. According to our sources, its true name is Death Star.” Draven pauses. “The project is unfinished, but there is one thing we know for sure: it’s a mass-destruction weapon, with finer technology than anything we’ve seen until now. We live in a world of steam, Captain Andor, but the Empire is about to introduce the era of the kyber crystal." 

Cassian has learned throughout the years to never show shock, nor anger, nor sadness. He cannot help a lump forming itself in his throat, until he forces himself to gulp in discomfort.

Kyber crystals. He has never seen one in his life, but like everyone, he has heard of old medieval tales of the Jedi, whose favorite weapon was the lightsaber, which possessed, of course, a kyber crystal at its core. Legend told that only the Jedi knew where to find crystals, hiding it to even the Sith, who were forced to kill Jedi and steal theirs from their lightsaber to build themselves one.

With the fall of the Jedi, the locations for kyber crystal mines were forever lost. Or so they thought. It is certainly yet another lie from the Empire.

According to Imperial propaganda, Emperor Palpatine’s reign has come with an era of prosperity, with modernization brought by steam power. But all Cassian can see is smoke in the air, with children who get older by each day who don’t even know that clouds were once white and who can only know the sky is blue thanks to storybooks.

He remembers Mon Mothma’s serene face shadowed with worry, as the Rebel Alliance is forced, day after day, to fold back, letting the Empire continue its implacable course. Draven has no need to explain to him the dire consequences the Death Star could have not only on the Rebellion, but also on the Empire at large.

He doesn’t even want to ask further information on the Death Star’s mechanisms. The less details, the better.

“Obviously, the Death Star is being built in a secret base in the First District,” continues Draven. “They wouldn’t want any commoner to come anywhere near it. We did manage to get information on its main engineer. He goes by the name of Galen Erso.”

Cassian silently nods. A name drop. It means it will be important.

“He’s got quite the resume. The Imperial Engineer’s Corps seems to put a lot of value on him.” He sighs. “I know that in an ideal world, the best thing to do for the Rebel Alliance would be to kidnap him and use his skills for our own use. We can’t afford it, right now. Therefore, your mission will be to infiltrate the First District, with the help of two contacts which will be given to you.”

Draven hands him two photographs. They’ve been taken without the subjects’ knowledge, and they are a bit blurry: but it’s more than enough.

On the first, he sees a young man with long, messy hair and a beard. Even if he is immobilized in the picture, Cassian can still sense a certain air of disquiet and agitation in him. His eyes are wide opened, with a glint of cleverness in them. He turns the photo and reads the back. _Bodhi Rook, Imperial train operator._ A traitor, like so many others in the Rebel Alliance. Cassian only hopes his cleverness and common sense will have the better hold of him. He wouldn’t want to have to silence him in case he’d have a panic attack. In those kind of missions, it was a regular occurrence.

The other picture is one of a young woman. Her dark hair is messily tied in a bun, and a few free strands of her hide her face. But not enough for Cassian to miss some sort of otherworldly feature she possesses. She looks every inch the street urchin, but her wide eyes and something else Cassian can’t quite pin make her look like some sort of sprite.

Not that she’s attractive. She’s definitely not his type.

He turns the photograph around. _Jyn Erso, pickpocket._ His eyebrows rise slightly, but that’s all he lets come out from his surprise.

“His daughter,” answers Draven. “Apparently, she’s been without her parents ever since she’s nine. She spent some time with Saw Guerrera and his group until she was fifteen.”

“How is that possible?” asks Cassian. “If her father is an Imperial, it’s unbelievable she might have been living with that gang. They’ve been merciless with any Imperial that comes on their path.”

“Might been the reason why she isn’t with them anymore. Anyway, she often manages to sneak in the Third District to do her job. That’s how we located her. You’ll have to meet up with her first. Get her to sympathize with you. Try to know what her current relationship with her father is. Send us everything you can gather on that subject. We’ll determine the course to take from there. But in one way or another, you’ll eventually meet up with Rook. He’ll help you enter the First District. He’s managed to get close to Erso, and he’ll get you into his base.”

“And then?” The question is pointless. By re-thinking of the whole briefing, Cassian knows what’s to come.

“As I said, we cannot afford to kidnap Erso. The last thing we need is the Empire to come after us to get him back. When you’ll find him,” adds Draven, leaning on his fists and staring right at Cassian, “you’ll execute him immediately. The Empire will be incapable of continuing the project. Is this clear enough?”

Nothing unusual. It shouldn’t be too hard. After all, it’s all for the greater good.

“Understood, sir.”

 

* * *

 

It’s yet another typical day.

The first times, she always felt an surge of adrenaline every time she went forward, grabbing a handkerchief, or a wallet or a watch on luckier days, to immediately start running as fast as she could. She would afterwards thank the Force for not being caught, to remember how her mother wouldn’t approve of what she had become.

She never cried whenever she thought of her mother and her father.

When she was younger, she’d cry after waking up from a nightmare. They were always the same: she was stuck in a small and dark room, with no doors nor windows, and she died there, suffocated. She never saw her parents in her sleep.

That day she had been separated from them, she had heard gunshots and cries. A few weeks later, Saw had made her sit on his knees as he usually did when he braided her hair, and he always did his best to do it as well as Mama used to, even though the result was always terrible (in the end, Jyn decided to braid her hair herself, even if it still wasn’t very good. She told Saw she wanted to do it like a big girl. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings). He was just as bad at breaking bad news, but he was good at giving hugs, even if that meant rocking Jyn back and forth for what seemed like hours. He had told her Mama was dead and Papa was now working for the Empire.

She was still a little girl, but she was old enough to understand death, and to be aware of the Empire’s cruelty. She knew her parents were hiding from it, even if she didn’t know why: and if Papa was working for the Empire, as Saw said, then it probably meant he was before all a prisoner.

The name of Galen Erso was never spoken of in the streets, as if he was forgotten of anyone or even dead. Saw Guerrera’s gang never forgot about him, and Jyn became a constant reminder, until the day where they couldn’t tolerate her presence anymore. Saw had to choose between his fight for freedom and Jyn: he chose the first.

Since then, she is on her own, and she survives.

At fifteen, out of pride, she had convinced herself she could manage on her own and that she didn’t need old Saw watching over her as if she was a toddler. But she had quickly realized she was still a child every time she’d steal and she would run to some hiding place to contemplate the fruit of her exploit in amazement, while her heart still pound in her ears.

Now, there is nothing else but boredom. And getting caught and thrown in prison would just be a change of routine. Her food and her bed wouldn’t be any worse.

She sees her typical target. A long waistcoat with a handkerchief carelessly hanging out from a pocket. There is more in there. Maybe a few coins. The owner is too busy paying attention to a newspaper’s headlines to be careful of his surroundings. Perfect.

She hears heavy metallic-sounding footsteps behind her. Probably some random Imperial droid. Another pickpocket would be frightened of them, but Jyn has learned long ago to be quick enough to be able to trick them.

She starts running towards her target, but a hand made of steel grabs her by the head and pulls her back, violently throwing her on the ground.

She holds back a groan of pain, and her first gesture is to quickly check her surroundings. She’s been thrown in some dark alley, and everyone seems to have been too busy to notice her sudden disappearance. Or perhaps they were too frightened to interfere with an Imperial droid.

She stares at her kidnapper, who does the same at her. She notices the usual tick-tock coming with every droid, and for a moment, she is surprised of even hearing it: it is a noise so familiar to her she doesn’t even hear it anymore. But in this case, it’s different, and she can’t quite pinpoint why.

“Congratulations,” says the droid. “You’re being rescued.”

“Wha—” she mutters, until she feels her ears heating in anger. “I didn’t need rescuing, you know,” she snaps, her voice icy. A dysfunctional Imperial droid. Just what she needed.

The droid blinks at her. “You’ve been rescued from a lifetime of crime. There is a 75% possibility that you might get caught by the Imperial police in the next two standard years, and a 95% possibility—” 

“That’s enough, Kaytoo.”

A human silhouette comes from behind the droid. _Finally. Someone reasonable._ Well, Jyn sure hopes he is.

He seems nice enough, and he’s not too bad-looking either. But she knows better. He could be anyone, and she has learned long ago thanks to Saw that she cannot trust anyone.

“Jyn Erso?” he asks.

She’s not foolish enough to give away her real name to that stranger. “Wrong person. My name’s Jan Ors, not… whoever you’re looking for.”

He smiles. “Well, for such an experienced pickpocket, you sure are terrible at picking false names.” She crosses her arms, swallowing her frustration. She has just committed a beginner mistake, and she should know better. She’s been going around with that name for ages, never encountering any problems. No one would ever suspect that her real name could be Jyn Erso – except that idiot and his crazy droid, of course.

“All right,” she replies, “so what’s your name?”

“Kyle Katarn.”

She chuckles mirthlessly. “Nice try. That’s not your real name either, right? Enough of this. What do you want?”

He comes closer to her, and his expression becomes more serious. “I have important information concerning your father, _Miss Ors_ … and I need your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I totally threw an EU reference here. For those who don't know, Jan Ors and Kyle Katarn are characters from the video game Dark Forces, and they were the ones who stole the Death Star plans in the Star Wars Legends. I wouldn't be surprised if Lucasfilm took a lot of inspiration from those two for Jyn and Cassian. 
> 
> Anyway, please leave kudos/comments! They always make my day. And you can come and bug me on cosette-giry.tumblr.com.


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